Page 4 of Imaginary Lines

Page 4

  I gazed at the gray-black clouds with uneasy contemplation. I’d been nervous when the plane climbed to altitude but fine after it leveled out. Now, though, I was uneasy again, ready for the plane to fall out of the sky any second. I didn’t like when the plane dipped dramatically in one direction, one wing to the ground and one slicing into the sky. It made my stomach swoop and my feet tingle, and my hands clung to the armrests with a slippery grasp.

  The entire descent, I breathed shakily and held my body tense, but we finally landed in one piece. Yet then we had to sit on the runway for an extra hour, and then it turned out my luggage had gone to Amsterdam—I swear, my luggage was better traveled than I was—so all in all, it wasn’t the most auspicious arrival to the city where I’d centered all my dreams.

  The minute I stepped into the New York air, I could feel moisture percolating through my face to lie in a fine sheen of perspiration upon my skin. My hair lifted away from my head as each follicle seemed to expand and become more susceptible to tangling, forming a massive cloud that hovered on either side of my head.

  Ah, humidity.

  I’d never actually been to the apartment I was moving into, which I’d acquired through word of mouth. I’d never even been to Astoria, though I’d heard of the neighborhood plenty of times. When I arrived at the three-story building, conveniently located across from a bodega and above a delicious-smelling Greek taverna, I texted the number I’d been given. Jasmine Rivas buzzed me up within seconds. She was small and athletic, her dark hair thrown up in a ponytail. “Hey. How was your trip?”

  “Good, thanks. ” I tried to shove my frizzing curls off my forehead. How was it possible for my hair to be sticky and frizzy at the same time? “I’m Tamar. ” Which she knew, of course, since we’d been emailing and texting, but it still felt weird to act like we’d met when we never had.

  “Jasmine. Come on in. ” She led me into the narrow hallways beyond the door. “So you’re Kari’s friend’s cousin?”

  “Uh, Kari’s cousin’s friend. ”

  She shrugged, unconcerned by the particulars. “Well, we’re glad you’re here. You wouldn’t believe some of the crazies we’ve had from subletting through Craigslist. One girl did PX-90 like every night. We were like, just join a gym like a normal person. ”

  I had no idea what PX-90 was. Also, I had no plans to join a gym. Especially after climbing to the fifth floor.

  “Okay, so here’s the grand tour. ” She walked down the long hall, banging and gesturing on rooms to the left. “Sabeen’s room. She’s from Iraq, just moved in two months ago. Kitchen. Bathroom. ”

  The kitchen wasn’t bad; maybe five by five, with a tiny window facing into the apartment across the air draft. It fit a full fridge and stove. As we reached the bathroom, the door swung inward and a cloud of steam poured out, along with a tall girl wrapped in a towel. Jasmine gestured at her. “This is Lucy. ” The girl waved before ducking into the next room down. “She’s an actress. ”

  As if on cue, Lucy started belting something from The Last Five Years behind her closed door.

  The hallway opened up into the dining room/living room setup, where a table for six was pushed against a wall. A red couch and two chairs took up the rest of the room, and a bookcase filled with novels and textbooks fit in one corner. Light poured in from long windows and streamed across the wooden floorboards. While three of the walls were white, the one with windows had been painted a pale, summery green.

  “It looks great. ”

  Jasmine nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks. We just repainted the walls last month. Makes it look surprisingly less shitty. ” She gestured across the living room at two doors. “I’m on the left, you’re on the right. ”

  And that concluded the tour. “Great. Thanks. Anything else I should know?”

  She shrugged. “There’s some guys on the third floor who smokes a ton so the stairwell always smell like pot, but it’s not that big a deal. I mean, obviously, there’s all the normal stuff—like take the trash out, and we sort of have a twenty-four-hours dirty dishes rule. Um. . . there might occasionally be strange guys in the morning from Luce, but she’s pretty good about texting us if she’s bringing anyone home. And like only on weekends, because we all work or study. Oh, and technically we’re not allowed on the roof, but you can get up there via fire escape. ”

  I nodded, trying to take that all in. Drugs, dishes, dudes. Got it. “Okay, great. ”

  She leaned casually against my door frame. “So what do you do?”

  I smiled. “I just got a job at Sports Today. ”

  She tilted her head. “That’s a Today Media blog?”

  “It’s also a magazine. It’s, uh, both. ”

  “Cool. You play anything?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. Mostly I just report. ”

  She nodded and left me, and I collapsed in my new room, staring around. I’d bought the furniture from the last roommate, who had been subletting her furnished room for the last six months. She’d sold me a queen-sized bed, an IKEA dresser and nightstand and a desk with a wheelie-chair. The space itself was pretty decent.

  Crazy monkeys. I was in New York.

  I let out a mostly silent squeal and flailed my arms and legs about in an impromptu jig. So what if it was cold and wet and I only knew one person in the city? I had a job! I was a continent away from my parents! I was in a thriving, exciting city, where no one knew me and I didn’t have to be good, quiet Tamar Rosenfeld. I could be crazy party girl if I wanted to be!

  And, okay, I didn’t particularly want to be, but that wasn’t the point. The point was I could be anything here.

  And, sure, I probably had to make friends first.

  I stared out the sizeable window at the busy street below. I could feel it in my bones, like the solid trunks of trees and the mist rolling off the hills and the tingle in my feet. Magic. I could find magic here.

  Almost absently, I scrolled the word on a piece of paper from my purse in light and sketchy lines.

  1) Find magic.

  What else had I wanted? What else did I want in life?

  2) Do something crazy.

  3) Be independent.

  4) Be brave.

  5) Stop being scared about things I can’t control.

  I stared up at the ceiling. My lines were becoming more defined, the letters smaller and darker and more certain.

  6) Write something I’m proud of.

  7) Fall in love.

  8) Be happy.

  That was what I was going to do here in New York, in this new city of metal and gray and magic. I was going to do everything.

  Everything was going to be perfect.

  Chapter Three

  When I woke, I relished in stretching slowly and twisting in my blankets. Sun spread across me, panels of light that warmed my skin. From outside came the gentle hum of construction and kids and traffic.

  I pulled myself out of bed in time to meet up with my cousin Shoshi for brunch. Apparently brunch was a thing here in New York, the kind of thing you planned for days in advance and got reservations for or waited in line. I mean, I was no stranger to being a foodie. San Francisco housed one of the best restaurant scenes in America—or the planet, if I didn’t feel like being modest. We had the French Laundry and Gary Danko and Alice Waters.

  And so maybe I hadn’t actually been to any of those places, and they weren’t all actually in San Francisco. Point was, I could, and they were close.